


please don’t stop the music

by tysunkete (aozu)



Series: log(minus 1) anthology [3]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 04:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12903597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aozu/pseuds/tysunkete
Summary: Pitch Perfect AU.Ba dum, ba ba dum, ba ba dum, ba ba dum.





	please don’t stop the music

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written 23/11/2014.
> 
> _Original request:_ hmm. what about Allen bails on his booth for a college activities fair (leaving Kanda to do it) and he meets Lavi? Lavi could be a dip shit and not know/want to have anything to do with what Kanda is promoting and only joined to get closer to him lol. You can morph it however you like, of course :3

 

“I’m going to get something to eat,” Allen announces, standing up.

“Sit your ass down, beansprout,” Kanda immediately snaps, sending a side eye glare. “I am not sitting at this stupid booth alone.”

“Yeah? Look at this,” Allen smiles sweetly, gesturing the space around him. “You don’t see anything, do you? That’s how much I care right now, _darling_ ,” he grins.

“Fuck you.”

“You only have yourself to blame, stupid Kanda,” Allen mutters, ignoring the threatening grab on the edge of his shirt as he tries to walk away. “Let me go, you’ll crinkle my shirt!”

“How is this my fault, exactly?” Kanda demands, purposely tightening his hold on the other just because he knows how annoyed the younger boy gets when he has to spend the extra time ironing out his finger marks.

“How is this _not_ your fault, exactly?” Allen retorts, pinching the irritating hand until Kanda curses and lets go. “It’s been a _week_ and we haven’t got any potential recruits because of your sour attitude that keeps scaring them off!”

“Yeah, because they all suck! I’m doing us a favour, goddammit!”

“As I recall you gave me the same treatment last year when I first wanted to join—“

“So? You sucked too.”

“—and it’s only because I learnt to treat you as the irritating jerk with all talk and no bite that you are that I—“

“You want to say that again, you fucking—“

“Boys.”

Both of them still, glancing at the source of the voice. A pretty Asian girl stands with her hands on her hips, unamused. Allen huffs and lets go of the grip he has on Kanda’s shirt, and narrows his eyes when the other doesn’t do the same.

“Put him down, Kanda.”

“Not until I murder his fucking—“

“Down,” the girl orders, and Kanda roughly drops the grip on Allen’s collar. “I leave for half an hour and you two can’t keep your hands off each other?”

“Don’t put it that way, Lenalee, I will throw up my lunch,” Allen grumbles. “Speaking of which, I was going to get a sandwich.”

Lenalee chuckles and pets his shoulder. “Go ahead. Come back as soon as you can, okay? Kanda might burn down our booth if he’s left alone too long.”

“Thanks for the fantastic idea,” Kanda mutters, crossing his arms.

“If you do it, Alma will stay in your room for a month,” Lenalee replies without a beat, and she turns to smile at him innocently. “Sit down.”

Kanda sours and sits. “Why can the brat go and _I_ can’t?” he demands as Allen bounds away.

“Because,” she sighs. “You ditched every slot I assigned you to mend this booth for the past four days only to pop in when we’re auditioning them just to scare them off!”

“Lenalee,” he states calmly. “They sucked.”

“So do you,” she mutters.

“I heard that. None of them can hold a fucking pitch. Fuck, that stupid ass yesterday nearly made my fucking eardrums _bleed_. Bloody hell, how the fuck did he think he could ever sing, much less fucking _acapella_?”

Lenalee rolls her eyes. “You’ve got to give them a chance.”

“In exchange for a ruptured eardrum? No thanks.”

“You gave Allen a chance.”

“I didn’t. The stupid bean just kept coming,” he wrinkles his nose. “Because of you.”

“Hmm mmm,” Lenalee nods, smiling. “And he’s _good_ right?”

“He still sucks.”

Lenalee shakes her head. “You’re such a jerk.”

Kanda scoffs. Yeah well, he knows that. It’s a miracle that Allen even joined them last year. It was exactly the same scenario when they were recruiting juniors for their acapella group during college fresher’s activities week last year—Kanda ditched his booth duty slots, strolled in during the evening auditions and verbally tore every single one of them apart for their horrible excuse of a voice. In his defense they _truly_ sucked, okay, and he isn’t going to suffer trying to harmonize with idiots who can’t keep a simple rhythm. They should just keep to their group in his opinion—they synchronise decently despite the addition of one beansprout, and if some kid really wants to sing they can just set up their own society, just like _they_ did. But Lenalee wants to keep the _tradition_ going; a stupid sentimental dream, he tells her, and gets a painful kick in the knee for it.

“Where are you going?” he asks suspiciously when Lenalee turns on her heel.

“I haven’t seen the booths in the North cloisters yet,” she says, giving a small wave. “I’ll see you later.”

“What’s the fucking point?” he squints. “You’re already in a society.”

Lenalee raises an eyebrow. “I was at this booth for the past four days covering for you when you were supposed to be here. I think I’m entitled for some free time today, don’t you think? Besides,” she smiles. “You’re a grown man, Kanda, you can’t possibly be scared of staying at the booth alone.”

“I’m not _scared_ —“

“Great,” she claps her hands together. “If someone wants to write their name down on the list, _let_ them. If find out that you snapped their head off,” she points threateningly. “I will end you.”

Kanda huffs. “Whatever.”

Lenalee trots off, which leaves him alone. Scared, hah, he’s not scared of being alone at their stupid booth. It’s just, he doesn’t want to be in a position where he’s expected to be _nice_ and _talk_ to stupid people who come and ask stupid questions like ‘ _what do you do_?’. What’s the fucking point of the banner and the flyers if they’re not going to be read?

Thankfully it’s heading to the later part of the afternoon and it’s the last day of the week which means less people hanging about, but someone still walks to his booth and lingers at the table. Kanda doesn’t pay the person any heed as he’s staring off into space contemplating about dinner (Lenalee should give him a medal for not “scaring” the idiot off, whatever) but then his attention gets called.

“Hey, are you alone here?”

Fuck, when is the bean or Lenalee coming back? Kanda glances over for his usual judgemental once over, and isn’t disappointed when he sees a rather tall redhead in a long sleeved shirt and tight jeans. God, his guy smiles much too wide and has a loss of an eye covered by a leather eyepatch. Mega weird.

“As you can see,” Kanda starts sarcastically. “You’re not fucking blind.”

The redhead pauses at the harsh tone, but then he throws Kanda completely off when he tilts his head back and laughs. “Well, I’m half blind, so you’re half wrong. What happened to your society mates?”

“Why do you care?” Kanda retorts, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “What do you want?”

The guy only grins. “How are you attracting freshers with that attitude?”

“I don’t care,” Kanda repeats. “If you don’t want anything, go the fuck away.”

That’s usually when nosy people get put off enough to walk away, but this redhead doesn’t. Instead, the guy leans his hip on the table like he’s going to _hang around_ for a bit. Fuck no.

“I’m Lavi. Third year, History.” he says causally. “There’s nothing to do for us seniors during fresher’s week, yeah?” he shrugs. “I’m here for the free stuff, to tell the truth, but it seems like you guys don’t have any. What’s your name?”

Kanda pauses and squints a bit, because he’s _pretty sure_ he’s getting hit on. He can’t really tell unless he gets groped which happens all the fucking time, but if this leads on to that, Kanda is all ready to relieve the spent up irritation he has from sitting at this stupid booth.

“None of your business,” he says instead.

“Okay,” Lavi replies, seemingly not deterred. “So, what you promoting?” he asks instead, leaning further forward to look at their flyers on the table.

“Society.”

“I can see that.”

Kanda sighs, annoyed. Fucking idiots. “Then you can read the damn thing on your own.”

The redhead chuckles a bit like it’s the most amusing comment he’s ever made (weirdo), and sets his gaze toward the coloured paper. “Huh,” he begins after scanning it with a surprised gleam to his eye. “Wow. You sing?”

Kanda immediately glares at the tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, uh, you don’t look like you use your mouth very much.”

The glare gets darker. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“An observation,” the other says easily. “Hey, sing something for me.”

“No.”

“Oh come on,” the redhead grins. “I’d bet you have a beautiful voice to match your beautiful face.”

Kanda stares, incredulous. “What the _fuck_?” he snarls, grabbing the other’s shirt down so roughly that Lavi involuntarily chokes at the sudden position. “Say that again and I’ll kill you. I’m not fucking interested.”

“Okay, noted,” Lavi winces, gently trying to pry the grip off him. “I’m sorry, really, but I _wasn’t_ hitting on you, I was just saying—“ Kanda’s grip tightens threateningly and Lavi sighs. “—…nevermind. Sorry. Can you let go of me now? It’s kind of uncomfortable.”

Kanda does so with an irritated snort. “Tch. Go away already.”

“Are you always this violent with everyone?” The redhead muses, pulling at the fabric where Kanda’s unforgiving finger marks are at. “Anyway, if I join, I can hear you sing, right?”

Kanda nearly chokes. “Oh hell no. You’re not qualified.”

“How do you know that?”

“You’re not,” Kanda says flatly. There’s no way in hell this smarmy guy can _sing_.

“You’re not even going to audition me?” the redhead cocks an eyebrow, waving one of their flyers in the air.

“I can _tell_.”

“Now you’re just being rude,” the other grins. “Come on. I’m not a professional but I know I can hold a note.”

“My fucking ass—“

“Kanda! Don’t you dare—“ A loud shout comes from across the corridor, and both of them turn to see a white haired boy cradling a plastic bag from _Sainsbury’s_ trotting up to them quickly “…Lavi?”

“Brit!” Lavi laughs, surprised, ruffling up the shorter boy’s hair when he was within arm reach. “Hey, haven’t seen you in a while. How’ve you been?”

“Pretty alright,” Allen smiles, trying to wave the hands away from his head. “What about you? Why are you here? Don’t you have duties at the sci-fi society?”

“Nah, you can only be a committee member for one year remember? I’d thought I’d take it easy this year, final year and all,” he hums. “But then I saw your booth and it looked kind of interesting—“

“You fucking liar,” Kanda interjects with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t know what this stupid booth was.”

“So? It looked interesting,” Lavi replies, unaffected. “I was just talking to _Kanda_ here and he didn’t want to let me audition—“

“Wait, you _talked_ to _him_?” Allen pauses, jabbing his thumb towards the man sitting at the booth.

“I did not—“

“A couple of sentences were exchanged, so yeah sure, why?”

“A miracle has been made,” Allen says slowly, as if in awe.

“Fuck you, beansprout.”

Allen ignores the comment, smiling. “So, you wanted to audition?”

“Hmm, yeah, if I can? Is it super formal or—“

“No, not at all! You just have to sing one verse and chorus from any song you like to us, maybe later today?”

“Huh, that’s easy,” the redhead nods, and after a pause a slow grin creeps up his lips. “Actually, I could do one now if you like.”

“You’ll have to sing it again to our president, but sure, why not?”

Kanda crosses his arms and inwardly groans—RIP to his ears, he’s going to blame Lenalee for this. There is a few seconds of silence as Lavi nods slowly as though remembering a rhythm, and his fingers start to drum the table. And then he opens his mouth.

_“_ _I threw a wish in the well, don't ask me I'll never tell, I looked at you as it fell, and now you're in my way—“_

Of all songs, of all fucking songs—

_“I trade my soul for a wish, pennies and dimes for a kiss, I wasn't looking for this, but now you're in my way—“_ The redhead sways as he snaps his fingers in tune, expression as though he’s on the verge of laughing. “Y _our stare was holding, ripped jeans, skin was showing, hot night, wind was blowing,”_ the other deliberately winks at Kanda, who still hasn’t dropped the horrified look _. “Where you think you're going baby?”_

“ _Hey I just met you_ ,” Lavi sings as loud as he can, much to Kanda’s chagrin. “ _And this is crazy—but here's my number, so call me maybe. It's hard to look right, at you, baby—but here's my number, so call me maybe.”_

Lavi fakes a mock bow after he’s done, and several students nearby burst into scattered applause. The redhead grins, flushed from the performance.

“So how was that?”

Allen is barely holding in his laughter when he pats Lavi on the shoulder. “…You’re in,” he says, breath lost as he chuckles some more. “You’re definitely in.”

“What the fuck, hell no!” Kanda protests, slamming his hand on the table.

“Kanda,” Allen starts patiently, smiling. “He’s good.”

“That was _stupid_.”

“Song choice aside, he _can_ sing,” Allen retorts. “He’s pretty good, actually.”

“Aw, thanks, Al.”

Kanda scoffs. “As if you would know.”

Allen looks over with a raised eyebrow. “I know better than _you_. You hold the bass. You barely even sing.”

“I can’t hear you over my perfect pitch, dumbass.”

“Stupid Kanda, you just confirmed that something _is_ wrong with your ears—“

Before the argument can drag out further, Lenalee appears in tow with an arm around her shoulder from a grinning guy behind her.

“What’s going on?” she asks, eyes shifting between the two guilty ones before she spots the redhead at the side. “Lavi?”

“Oh. Lenalee! You’re in this society too?”

“President, actually.”

“Wait, I’ve seen you before too, somewhere,” the guy behind Lenalee says curiously, dropping the shoulder hold.

Lavi blinks and squints. “Yeah. You’re right. First year, sci-fi society pub crawl. You’re Alma, right?”

“Shit, that’s a fucking good memory you have there,” Alma says, impressed. “I don’t have the same, though, sorry. Nice to meet you again.”

“Nah, it happens. And same, dude.”

Kanda scowls. “Why the fuck does everyone know the idiot?”

“It’s just you, you antisocial prick,” Allen sniffs, and dodges the kick that attempts to trip him.

“Aww Yuu, don’t feel left out,” Alma coos, coming over to wrap his arms around the other’s neck, to which Kanda did not take well to. “We love you very much, don’t forget that.”

“Fuck—I don’t even want to know, stop touching me you idiot.”

“So what brings you here, Lavi?” Lenalee asks, and Allen rushes to answer excitedly.

“He’s our new member!”

“He is not fucking joining!”

“Lenalee,” Allen continues as Alma muffles Kanda’s mouth for kicks. “I can vouch that he can sing. And he _talked_ to Kanda _alone_ and didn’t get killed. That’s enough to go with, don’t you think?”

Everyone turns to look at Kanda for a short moment before Lenalee nods. “You’re in.”

“You can’t fucking be serious—mmphh—Alma get your fucking hand— _mpppph_!“

The redhead isn’t… _bad_ , Kanda will admit, but there’s no way in hell that he’s _good_. Not to mention the guy is weirdo and creeper and a damn idiot. But of course everyone ignores his very valid opinions in times like these.

They’re all going to regret it, they’ll see.

 


End file.
